


Angel

by Lola_Rose_Robins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas-centric, Comforting Dean Winchester, Comforting Sam Winchester, Demons, Dubious Consent, Eventual Fluff, Fallen Angels, Gen, He/Him Pronouns For Castiel (Supernatural), Hell, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, No Smut, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, The Fall Of The Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_Rose_Robins/pseuds/Lola_Rose_Robins
Summary: Castiel wakes up to find himself trapped in hell, unable to locate his grace but with his wings still intact.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just start with this: I hate the way the spn writers treat the boys (mainly Cas). I mean, I'm a sucker for angst, but even then they still deserve some happiness. So fuck canon, I'm making my own.
> 
> I also don't usually write in this style, that was just a random decision I made before I started and was too stubborn to give up on. 
> 
> If there is something I forgot to tag, please let me know, because I once again don't remember a thing I've written.
> 
> Enjoy :)

**Cas POV**

I wake up with a start. Why was I even asleep? I shouldn’t have to sleep. There is nothing but darkness all around me, darkness and cold. I notice that any garments to protect my arms and torso are missing, the slime from the floor sticking to my skin, I can feel a shiver running down my spine, it is very cold. I wrap my wings around me in an attempt to keep myself warm, it does help a little, and the soft feathers against my skin have always been comforting to me, especially now. It’s pretty quiet, save for the muffled screams in the distance.

Where am I?

I slowly get on my feet, also devoid of any shoes, ignoring the stiffness in my knees, and slowly walk around the room. Every step hurts, but I am not giving up, not yet. I finally find a wall and start following it, trying to find the door.

The door is shut, obviously, so I try to push it open. It opens a little bit, allowing a small stream of light to enter my cell, I push harder. It’s stuck, I push and push, but no matter how hard I try, it never opens more than that one tiny sliver. I’m just not strong enough. I turn around and lean back against the door, I can feel its slimy cold surface against the skin on my back, right between my wings. That stuff is going to be a pain to get out of my feathers later, I know it, but right now I don’t really care.

I search around for my grace, but it’s hard to locate, I must have depleted it earlier. In the little light there is I can finally see my vessel again. I see the small scrapes on his hands, my hands, and the deep gashes in my arms. Why am I not healing, even with the tiniest bit of grace, at least the bleeding should have slowed down by now. I search around for my grace again, but still it is nowhere to be found.

My concentration is broken when I feel a hand stroking my left wing and a whispering voice in my ear, “These are softer than I imagined.”

I found myself frozen in place as the voice continued whispering in my ear, “…so soft, I might take some for myself. It’s not like you’ll be needing them anyways.” Their accent was strange, like they weren’t fully used to speaking English yet, something about the accent felt familiar though.

“…Upaai…” Strange, that sounded suspiciously similar to…enochian. Now that I actually started to listen, I can hear that the stranger occasionally slips into a language that was similar to enochian, but not so similar to be considered one of the regional dialects that are spoken in heaven. It’s about as similar as modern dutch and Afrikaans, if I try I can understand most of the words, but it still feels unfamiliar. I suddenly remember hearing about this specific dialect before, but the only ones I know of that speak this language are the angels that had followed Lucifer, to Hell.

Shit, I’m in hell.

The stranger must have felt my sudden fear as I realised where I am, because they suddenly turn me around with my back against the wall. I try to fight, but I am still frozen in place, unable to move anything other than my eyes. I can finally see the stranger. Their vessel is that of a young man, very similar looking to Dean, but I can see his true age in his eyes, a dark green, like moss or needles on a pine tree. This creature is old, very, very old.

“I remember you, y’know. Lucifer used to be quite fond of you, back before the Fall. Always brought you along to our little meetings. You probably don’t even remember, you were just such a little fledgling, but look at you now… It’s a shame you got left behind, though from what I’ve heard, you’re quite the rebel yourself, guess some of our influence had an impact after all.”

The fallen angel is leaning in, now only inches from my face, I can feel their breath on my face as a sharp claw draws circles on my stomach, making the occasional nick in my skin. It hurts, and I try to get away, but the demon’s scent washing over me is strangely calming,

I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying right here.

The demon gets up and holds out a hand, helping me up after I take it. It doesn’t let go of my hand as it leads me out the door and down the hallway, I wonder where we’re going, as I look around I catch glimpses of other doors, I wonder what’s behind those. We enter a small room, the demon holding the door open as I walk in. It’s dark at first but the demon quickly turns on a light, revealing the contents of the room.

It’s a small, but beautifully decorated space. One half of the room is occupied by a large mahogany desk, with neat piles of paper on the side, surrounded by bookshelves. The other half of the room looks more like a living space, with some comfortable chairs and even a lit fireplace, the crackling of the flames is even more calming, so is the scent emanating from the fire. Everything is calm, everything is alright, I feel safe.

I am not talking much and that is rude, I understand that, but I am just taking in the beauty of this room. The fallen angel whispers again, “Welcome to my home, let me take you to your room.”

I take the fallen angel’s hand and let them lead me to the door behind their desk. Behind that door there is a small room, just large enough for two people to stand and move around in, it already feels like home. The fallen angel leads me to the centre of the room and starts attaching chains to my ankles, neck and wrists, keeping me in place. I don’t even have to stand, I can just lean forward or backward and hang in my chains, wonderful. Then he attaches some more chains to my wings, allowing them to stretch out completely and stay suspended in the air without costing me any energy. When he is finally done he takes a step back to admire his work, or me, who knows.

Then he takes a step closer and runs his hand through my wings again, “You’re mine now, angel, my own little pet.” I can’t do much more than nod at this point. When he removes his hand from my wing, I instantly miss the warmth, I can feel a burning sensation in the corners of my eyes as the fallen angel turns around and leaves out the door. Before closing it though, he turns to me one last time and whispers, “The name’s Belial, by the way.” Then there is darkness. I can feel tears running down my face as the fallen angel’s scent slowly dissipates.

Wait, why am I crying over a demon‽

I try to walk towards the door, to get out of this cell, but then I notice the chains holding me in place. I can feel the rough metal scratching my skin, the pain from the pins piercing my wings washes over me and is rather overwhelming. I am helpless, hopeless as darkness clouds my vision and I slowly fall into unconsciousness, the sound of my own screams sounding muffled in the distance.

When I wake up, I can feel the pain in my throat,try to speak, but no sounds are coming out. Helpless.

I start to think back to what has happened today. I completely fell for the demon’s influence, I realise angrily, Pathetic excuse for an angel, that’s what I am, worthless, no wonder Belial, of all demons, is drawn to me.

I give up trying to escape, there’s no point really. Even if I did manage to escape, where would I go? To the bunker? It’s not like Sam and Dean really need me, especially not like this, without my grace. Dean has said it before, I’m just a baby in a trench coat, and I don’t even have the trench coat anymore.

The door to my cell opens and warm light streams in, followed by a calming scent. I yell at the figure in the doorway, “Who do you work for? What do you want?”

“Honey, I don’t work for anyone. It’s just me, and you, forever, that’s all I want,” the smooth voice whispers back.

Of course, that makes sense. If the fallen angel worked for hell, we would have come across them before. Maybe this demon isn’t so bad after all…

“So why are you here,” I ask. The fallen angel leans in close and whispers, “I just want to play a little game with you, distract myself from work a little. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

I chuckle slightly, I do love games, I wonder what it’s going to be.

“Just lean back and relax.” I do as I am told and hang back in my chains, pretending I am lying in a hammock. I’ve never been in a hammock, but they look like fun.

The fallen angel takes out a small knife and I watch as he starts carving lines and shapes into my chest and stomach. Before I could stop it, a giggle escapes my mouth as he carves a smiley face into my skin. When he’s done with his drawings he walks around me, now standing by my side. When he starts plucking out some feathers, I get a bit nervous, but the fallen angel sends me a reassuring smile, telling me that everything is alright. I watch on as he plucks out some of my remiges and lays them on a neat pile. I reach out my hand but can’t reach them. The angel turns to me and hands me one of my feathers before continuing to collect all my remiges. I tear my eyes off of the fallen angel and turn my attention to the feather in my hand. It is stained completely black, much like the rest of my wings, with just a small trace of the soft grey that it used to be, before I went and saved the Righteous Man. As I inspect it a bit more I notice that the feather no longer has the dull, charred black look it had right after my mission. Instead, it is now a deeper black, with a deep blue sheen on it, that only shows when the light hits it at certain angles. Maybe they don’t look that ugly after all. I was so absorbed in my thoughts about the feather that I almost miss the fallen angel stroking my hair and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

My wings hurt where my flight feathers had been roughly plucked out, small amounts of blood are trickling out of the countless small wounds and dripping onto the floor. I fall asleep leaning back, ignoring the strain it puts on my wrists, I’m just too tired to care.

I wake up the next day to the fallen angel already standing in the room, smiling down at me. I smile back, knowing he is just here to play another game. There is nothing for me to worry about. I keep on smiling as the fallen angel breaks my legs, I keep smiling as he removes the chains from my wrists and ankles, only leaving the one around my neck, and I’m still smiling as he reopens the wounds on my chest and adds a few new ones. My smile drops after the door has closed again and the demon is gone, taking its scent with it.

Days fly by, the demon comes and goes, bringing me calmness and peace of mind, and leaving me broken and tired, so tired that all I can do is sleep.

I am laying on the floor of my cell, after just waking up a few minutes ago, cold and alone. The demon had told me he’d be away for a few days and had left me with a pan full of soup to sustain myself with.

When the door finally opens I don’t even bother looking anymore, I just wait for the demon’s scent to hit me, for the strange sense of calm to wash over me and for the demon to do as it pleases. I just stay in my corner, knees pulled up to my chest, lying on my side with my wings wrapped around me.

I expected the demon to lay its hands on me again, making me do its bidding, using me. What I did not expect was Dean’s voice coming from the doorway instead, speaking at a normal volume instead of the usual whisperings of the demon.

“Cas?”

——

**Dean pov**

I glance over at Sammy, waiting for his signal that everything is clear. As soon as I see him nod, I turn the key and open the door. It had been difficult to find this place, none of the demons down here knew where Cas was. Sam and I had to search the entirety of Hell to find the one demon who had a clue, however vague it was. The demon told us about the fallen angel Belial, who had mentioned something about a ‘pet angel.’ This was enough of a clue for us and it didn’t actually take too long to find Belial’s home.

There is only one door in this place, this must be where he’s keeping Cas.

I open the door and Sam and I both lean in to see. The room is fairly small, it would be impossible for me and Sam to both enter it. We decide that it’s best if I go in. I notice the thick layer of slime on the floor and walls, sticking to my boots, my hands, everything. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I see the small shape in the corner. I turn around to Sam and see that he is looking at it too. He hands me a flashlight and I turn it on.

The sight is quite shocking. I can’t see much of the figure, it’s basically just a ball of feathers with bare feet sticking out. As I look closer I can see the familiar messy black hair sticking out as well. I notice that the feathers are covered in the same slimy substance as the floor and walls, and that they are just as messy as the hair.

“Cas,” I speak, since the figure doesn’t seem to be moving on its own. The miserable pile of feathers moves a little, revealing two familiar blue eyes. A soft whisper comes from within it, “Dean?” Cas’ voice sounds small, scared, and somehow even more rough than it used to be.

“Hey there, buddy. Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. Thankfully Cas listens, as he is slowly unfurling his body. Now that he is sitting up, I can see the damage done to his body. The gashes in his torso, the bruises, the holes through his wings, I still can’t get over the sight of those wings but now is not the time for that, and his legs…oh god, his legs. I see the weird angles and already know what’s up. The demon broke his legs, his fucking legs.

“Here, let me see those.”

——

**Cas pov**

I just stare as Dean kneels down in front of me, he’s saying something but I don’t really understand what it is, he inspects my legs. They’re still broken, they hadn’t healed yet, the demon hadn’t allowed them to.

Why are Sam and Dean here? Did they have business to attend to in hell and just decided to drop by on their way out? I don’t want them to leave me behind again!

I grab Dean’s arm and try to speak, but I only manage to get out a whisper, “Don’t leave me.”

I look into Dean’s eyes, not even bothering to hide the fear in my own, I see the sadness in them.

“I won’t,” he answers, and that is enough for me. I lunge forward and throw my arms around his neck. Dean hugs me back and we stay like that for a while. I finally feel relaxed and safe again, in the presence someone other than the demon that is, I just breathe in Dean’s scent and slowly feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.

When I wake up I am wrapped up in a warm, soft blanket on the back seat of the impala. I press my face into the leather to soak up its scent. Finally, I am going home.

“Morning, Sunshine. How’re you feeling,” Dean’s voice rings from the driver’s seat. My throat is still painful and even a whisper is impossible now, so I just let out a hum to let the Winchesters know I’m alive. After laying there for a few minutes, I finally gather enough strength to sit up. Something is preventing me from moving my legs though, and as I look down I see the planks strapped to both sides of my legs and the bandages that are tightly wrapped around them. Right, my legs were broken. I turn to the side and lean back against the door of the Impala, pulling my legs up onto the seat. The turning is difficult, as my wings get in the way, but eventually I do find myself sitting back, leaning relatively comfortable, with my wings folded in front of me.

Sam must have noticed my struggle, because just as I have figured myself out I hear his voice coming from the front, “So what’s with those? ‘Cause you don’t have your grace but you do have your wings. Why’s that?”

I think about it for a while, it’s a difficult question, “I don’t know.” That was all I could think of. It’s not like there is really any information about this.

It is quite degrading to have to be carried into the bunker by someone, but I am glad that it is Dean. He carries me into the medbay and places me on one of the tables.

“Alright, stay here,” he says as he walks away. Minutes later he returns with a bucket of soapy water and some towels. It is only now that I realise just how disgusting I look, covered in slime, blood and dirt, hair and feathers competing to see who is the messiest. Dean hands me one of the towels, soaked in water, and takes the other one himself. As Dean starts to clean my wings and my back, both areas that I cannot reach on my own, I start on the rest of my body. It has been a while since I’ve seen my actual skin, it’s even paler than I remember, and I can see my bones sticking out further than they should. What have I done to you, Jimmy. I did’t even notice the tears running down my cheeks until I feel Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me. I try to stop the tears, but they just keep on coming, rolling down my face, soaking Dean’s flannel. I try to apologise, but my voice is still too broken to be audible. I guess Dean knows me well, since he replies to my unspoken words, “No need to apologise, Cas, it’s okay. Just let it all out.” I do.

After a few hours of work, we’ve managed to get most of the dirt and slime off of my skin and all the wounds and lacerations cleaned and stitched up. My wings are still messy, the sticky slime turns out to be quite tough to remove from feathers, but now that I am no longer at risk of bleeding out or getting an infection, we can properly do something about them. Dean carries me to the bathroom, making sure to keep my bandaged body away from the showers, and turns on the water so that it only hits my wings. We both go to work on them and after another hour they’re finally looking somewhat decent again. One week later we are all sitting in the library. I have created a little corner for myself to sit with my legs stretched out, as they are now in a full cast. We were quite lucky to find a hunter with enough medical knowledge to fix that up. I still cannot walk and the doctor told me I would have to wait 3 or maybe even 4 more months before they are fully healed, until then I have my crutches. So now all I can do for 3 months is sit around the bunker, feeling useless, great.

**Sam pov**

I walk into the library and make sure to say hi to Cas. The dude’s been isolated for over a month, he probably needs all the social interactions he can get without getting overwhelmed. I look over at him, since I didn’t get a response today, and notice the distant look in his eyes. I walk closer to him and kneel down, waving my hand in front of him. This seems to snap him out of his trance, as he looks at me, startled, his solemn expression makes way for a sad smile. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas,” I study the expression on his face. He hasn’t quite learned how to control his face as a human yet, so right now he is an open book, and the fact that apparently angels cannot control their wings showing emotions probably isn’t helping either. Right now his wings are folded in, hidden behind his back, he’s clearly not feeling too hot. “Hey, I could use some help translating some texts, wanna join?”

Just as I expected, Cas’ face lit up at the idea of being able to help. Dean has been babying him for far too long, I can’t imagine how bored he must be by now. “Alright,” I stopped myself from saying ‘wait here’ and instead went with, “I’ll be right back.” I ran over to the other side of the library andgrabbed my laptop and a pile of books before walking back over to Cas’ corner. I sit down next to him and place the books between us, then I steal some of his pillows, he has enough, and settle in.

Time goes by as we read our books in silence, occasionally reading an amusing line out loud or making a remark about an error in the lore, though those are mostly coming from Cas, his voice is still a bit raspy, but at least there’s some sound again. All in all, we’re having a pretty good time.

Suddenly I hear the library door open and footsteps in Dean’s signature pattern coming down the stairs. I hadn’t heard him leave this morning so he must have been gone for quite a while. I turn my attention back to my laptop and finish translating my line just in time before Dean comes stomping in and starts to demand our attention, “What are you nerds doing holed up in here? It’s a beautiful day, let’s go outside!” I can almost see Cas’ scoff as he continues staring at his book, and I do see the way his wings tense up slightly. Suddenly Dean drops something large onto the floor in front of us, forcing me to look up. It’s a bag. “What’s that?” I ask. I have not seen this bag before, so Dean must have bought it, along with its contents, today.

“Well I’m glad you asked, Sammy,” Dean says as he opens the bag and pulls out a strange metal structure. Now this is interesting… I close my laptop and place it beside me as I watch Dean unfold the structure. I notice that Cas is now leaning forward slightly, with his wings relaxed and folded around his shoulders and his head tilted slightly, in typical Cas fashion.

As Dean finishes unfolding and assemble the structure, which I now see is a wheelchair, Cas’ wings suddenly flare out, hitting me in the face, almost breaking my nose, but seeing the way his face has lit up instantly makes me forget about the pain. This will be good, going outside should be good. But what about the wings…

“Can you, like, wrap them around you? Like a blanket,” Dean asks, as if reading my mind. Cas wraps his wings around himself in a shape that almost resembles something like a fur coat, but something is just off about it. It needs something more. I walk into the living room and grab the first blanket I find, a nice plaid flannel one. I guess we’re going for matching outfits then. When I re-enter the library, Cas and Dean are already on their way up the stairs, so I grab the wheelchair and follow behind them. Outside we get Cas into the chair and I wrap the blanket around his wings. It still looks somewhat strange, especially on such a hot day, like he’s covered in a thick layer of blankets, but we’ll have to make do. It’s still better than living indoors for the foreseeable future.

**Cas pov**

It feels good to feel the sun on whatever little exposed skin I have again, and the wind carrying all sorts of smells is wildly under appreciated in my opinion. We start our walk from the bunker, since that is as good a place as any to start and take all sorts of side roads, slowly meandering our way towards Lebanon. It takes us an hour and a half to reach the town, but when we do we’re all starving, at least I know I am. My throat is still a bit sore so I try to avoid saying too much, but I get the message across to Dean by grabbing ahold of his sleeve and pointing towards the diner. He lets out that soft chuckle that I like so much and starts walking ahead towards the diner. When Sam an I arrive inside, Dean is already at an empty table moving some chairs out of the way. We eat our lunch, some burgers with fries and, of course, pie. After lunch we continue our walk through town before arriving back at the bunker halfway through the afternoon. Today was a good day.

That evening Dean is the one to carry me to my room and help me into bed. Still filled with energy from the day, I feel bold and pull Dean into the bed with me, holding him close. I have found hugs to be quite calming and have actually started to enjoy them more, and when I use my wings, my hugs are practically inescapable. “This is the moment where you hug back,” I whisper. Dean finally moves and wraps his arms around me, holding me closer to him. I can hear his heart beating in his chest, much faster than it should…”are you alright, Dean? Your heart is beating excessively fast. Is something the matter?” I feel the worry dancing around in my stomach, but it is quickly soothed by Dean’s lips planting a kiss on my forehead. I can feel the tiredness creeping in so I grab Dean’s wrist and whisper, “Don’t leave me,” perfectly aware of my slurred speech and clinginess.

“I won’t,” Dean answers. I don’t see him anymore, but I can feel him smiling into my hair. Reassured I let go of his wrist and wrap my wings around us both. My brain vaguely registers a hand rubbing circles on my back, right in between my wings, before sleep takes over and everything goes dark. I have been human for three months now. My leg is almost healed, I only need crutches to assist me in waking. All other wounds have either healed or turned into scars, that is, most of them have become scars. I know they’re not very pleasing to look at, but Dean keeps telling me he doesn’t mind, that they look ‘hot’, though I do not understand where temperature comes into play.

I still cannot go anywhere in public without wrapping a blanket around myself to hide my wings, and even then I know I must look strange.

Sam and Dean are out on a hunt nearby, leaving me behind to do some research and man the telephones. A notification pops up, indicating that the algorithm has picked up on a news story with a possible supernatural background. I open the article and start reading. Three lines in I am already convinced that this is the work of a demon. At the end of the article there is a video attached, some security footage of the criminal, aka the demon’s meat suit. I watch the clip, which closely follows a young girl walking around the store before suddenly pulling out a knife and slaughtering the other customers, when she has finished her murder spree she turns around, staring into the camera. It almost feels like she is staring straight into my soul. Her lips split into a small smile, a very familiar smile. Memories of hands travelling all over my body are suddenly flooding back all at once, and I find myself unable to shake the hands off. As I’m starting to feel lightheaded I become aware of how fast I am breathing. I try to take deep breaths, but it feels like something is pushing back again my chest, stopping me from breathing properly. I try to walk away from those eyes, that smile, but only manage to go a few meters before falling backwards onto the floor and crawling the rest of the way to the corner. Sitting in the corner, I try again to control my breathing, but nothing seems to help. I feel the phantom hands touching me all over and I desperately claw at them, in an attempt to get them to stop. But they are everywhere, on my arms, my chest, my stomach, even my wings. The hands keep coming for me as the demon smiles at me from the screen, still staring straight at me.

**Dean pov**

I get out of the Impala and walk around to help Sammy get out too. The hunt itself was pretty easy, it had been the building and its rotten stairs that had caused the most trouble this time. Sammy had tumbled down and hit his head pretty hard, but other than that he was fine. We walk through the garage together, heading towards the entrance to the bunker. Something’s off, I try to focus on the sounds around me and that’s when I hear it, muffled screams coming from inside.

“Cas!” Fuck, who’s hurting Cas? They better prepare themselves for the afterlife, because nobody touches my angel. I run into the library, fully expecting an ambush, or at least one demon. Instead I am met with an empty room and a screaming Cas in the corner, clawing at himself. I run over to him, kneel down and grab his wrists, “Cas, stop it! Please, what’s going on with you, man?”

“Please, stop, touching me,” Cas’ voice sounds broken, with the occasional sob coming through.

“Touching? Who’s touching you,” I ask as I look around the room and find no one.

“Demon. Belial.”

Shit.

“Cas, you need to calm down, okay. Breathe with me,” I take his hand and place it against my chest as I take slow, deep breaths in and out. It takes a minute, but eventually Cas manages to copy my breathing and slowly calm himself down a little. I take in the scene. Cas’ skin is covered in scratches and there are some feathers scattered on the floor. Nothing too serious, but it sure ain’t good. “What happened?” Cas doesn’t respond, he just glances at something behind me and squeezes his eyes shut. I turn around to looking my eyes fall on the opened laptop on the table. The screen has gone into standby mode but something on it must have triggered something. I give Cas’ hand a reassuring squeeze and make my way towards the table. After turning the computer back on, I am met with a still of a young girl staring straight into the camera, it looks like this comes from a security camera, the floor in the still is littered with bodies and the girl looks to be covered in blood. As I look closer I notice the smile on her lips. I don’t believe for a second that an 8-year old is capable of killing all these people, so clearly it’s a demon, since angels no longer exist. Then it dawns on me, “Is that..” I cannot even bring myself to finish the sentence as I turn to face Cas and his broken eyes.

“Yes.”

“Fuck…”

We both just sit silently for a while, until I realise we should probably get moving. “Let’s go find Sammy.”

I walk over to Cas, who is still sitting miserably in the corner, holding a handful of black feathers from the floor. I grab his shoulder and shake gently, waking him from his trance, before pulling him to his feet and taking him to the medbay. There we find Sam already sitting on a bed, holding an ice pack to his head. I spend some time cleaning Cas’ wounds and bandaging the places with the deepest ones. By the time we’re done, Sam’s gentle snoring already fills the room and both me and Cas are too tired to go anywhere. I get into the bed with Cas and pull him close, his head resting against my chest and his wings wrapped around us. I let my hands rub circles on his backas I feel the wetness soaking through my shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> I googled "name a fallen angel" and Belial was just the second name to come up (after Lucifer) so that's the reason I named this fallen angel Belial. And the fact that apparently the "Sons of Belial" are also the "Worthless Men" is just a coincidence that happens to fit with Cas' low self esteem.
> 
> And why does Cas still have his wings? Well my reasoning was that he never actually fell, so his wings didn't get burnt off in the atmosphere (I made wings into an actual limb instead of connecting them to angel grace. So all earthbound angels, at the time of the Fall, still have their wings.)


End file.
